The Wandering City
by AlQaholic
Summary: Priceless treasure! A dangerous quest! High-flying adventurer Nathan Drake runs into fellow relic-finding enthusiast Lara Croft and they go to world's end to stop Trinity from getting their hands on a powerful artifact. (Takes place after ROTTR and U2) *Short story*
1. Strange Message

Nathan Drake, professional treasure hunter, thief, and adventure-seeker, resided in his homely residence of the inner-city. In his hand he held a beer, cold and slick with perspiration. He'd just taken it out of the fridge. Drake brought the beer closer to meet lip of the bottle and let the cool ichor slide down his throat. Refreshing. As he sipped, he listened to the soft pitter-patter of the rain against his apartment window. The day was almost over and it was getting dark out.

Drawing in a lengthy breath, he let out an exhale just as long. He idly felt the texture of his leather recliner. There wasn't much to do today. Or the past few days, really. As a man of adventure, this feeling didn't really sit right with him. He'd promised himself he'd take a break, a short respite from the dangerous world of thievery and treasure hunting, but right now it'd be an understatement to say he was missing the action and how much it kept him busy. Not to mention how much it staved off troubled thoughts.

His breakup with Elena was still fresh in his mind and free to torment him without any distractions to keep his focus off it. It'd happened a while ago but Drake couldn't seem to shake the empty pit in his stomach that she'd left behind. He wanted to, and if he had a choice he would, but it'd stayed right where it was, vile and incessant. A very lonely feeling had stuck with him ever since. He felt like his feet were sinking into the mud and he couldn't get them out. Drake rested his cheek on his palm, elbow planted on the armrest of the recliner. He sighed a little. His mind was already over it but not his heart, and he hated the lack of control. That was always the problem.

Glumly, Drake took another sip of his beer in a poor attempt to drown out his sorrows. Drinking by himself. It didn't fill the void very well. In fact, it didn't fill it at all. He finished the last of the bottle and set it down on the table in front of him. There was no point in getting another one.

Drake didn't like that he had nothing to do. Idle minds left room for uncomfortable feelings. He began to think. He needed to fill the time with something, but there wasn't much around his apartment to keep him occupied and take the edge off this dreaded silence. He'd tried a multitude of things already. Food. TV. Solitaire. Nothing seemed to be working.

Drake got an idea. He pulled out his phone and headed to his contacts, scrolling down until he found his long-time friend Victor Sullivan. Drake considered calling him. They hadn't spoken much since the fiasco in Shambhala some time ago, and he probably wasn't doing anything besides getting into debt and doing under the counter business dealings as usual. Things were rather lonely without him and Elena around to keep the heat on. It was more agonizing than Drake thought it would be.

He shouldn't have taken it for granted.

Deciding it was better to just get some rest, Drake settled in for the night and went to bed. He awoke the next morning to find something had been slipped under his door.

An envelope.

And it bore the mysterious seal of a black, three-pointed star on a red background.

Being his curious self, Drake picked it up and examined the envelope like it was some long-lost relic. He didn't recognize the insignia but it gave whatever was inside an air of importance. Aside from the seal, there wasn't anything on it that could clue him in: no stamp, no postmark, no return address, nothing that indicated where it came from or who sent it. Odd. Very odd. With nothing better to do and a piqued interest, Drake sat down at a table so he could open the envelope right then and there. He found mail was more interesting when it was done the old-fashioned way.

Tearing it open, Drake unfurled the letter inside. It wasn't what he was expecting. _Mr. Drake_ it began. _We are told you have an open mind and a desire to seek out the new and unusual. And thus we are reaching out for your valued assistance. It has come to our attention that you are quite good at acquiring precious relics and offer you considerable payment should you be interested in acquiring a certain artifact for us. The price is of no concern. Be at Times Square no less than three days from now if you wish to inquire further._ The letter ended there with no signature.

Drake gripped the paper tighter. _Just my luck,_ he thought. Someone was in need of his services. But who?

The message possessed the shadowy smell of the underworld. Drake could recognize it anywhere. No doubt whoever was seeking to have him in their employ was not someone of particularly good nature. However, that didn't matter much at all to Drake if money was involved. Besides, he'd done jobs for some bad people before anyway. What was one more to that list?

Forgetting the part about the money, something like this ought to keep him busy for a while. With that thought, Drake made up his mind. He'd have to check things out. See where all this leads.

* * *

In the depths of an underground casino built below the streets of New York City, Drake got to meet the person who wished to hire him. With leering eyes, a man sat behind his desk, rolling a coin effortlessly between his fingers. He donned a gray business suit and blue-tie. The bold and penetrating gleam on his face seemed to cover any weakness that could potentially hide behind it. At first glance, there was something cold and ruthless to his demeanor. Maybe it was the way he was steepling his fingers and looking at him when the fortune hunter took a seat.

"So, Mr. Drake..." the man said as he sat down, "You are interested in our offer?"

Drake could detect a Russian accent in the man's gruff voice. "Well, that depends on what exactly your offer is." he said in a negotiating tone. "I suppose you're the one who wrote that letter. You made things sound pretty enticing. That wasn't all smoke and mirrors, was it?"

The man chuckled. "I am Nikolay Vtorov. And no, I assure you. It wasn't. We sent that letter to you because we have a problem, Mr. Drake. A big problem. I hear you're the best in the business..."

Drake leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "Whatever it is, I'll take care of it Mr. Vtorov. For the right price, of course."

"Heh. You'll recieve a hefty sum in return for your work. Trinity pays those who do good by it well." Vtorov said. "Regarding what you'll be working on..."

"You mentioned an artifact in the letter?" Drake interjected.

"I did." Vtorov pulled out a folder containing some papers from the drawer in his desk. He opened the folder, taking one document out, and then slid the document over to Drake. "Tell me, how's your 16th century mythology?"

Drake, who was laid-back in his chair, suddenly shot forward when he caught a glimpse of the picture on the document. He pulled the document closer. He wasn't sure if his eyes were malfunctioning but a second, much closer look, confirmed they weren't. In front of him was an artist's depiction of what Vtorov's organization was seeking so badly. A perfectly spherical crystal orb, smooth as a marble, dark and soulless like the night. The blackish green surface of it was reflective as much as it was glassy. The orb itself seemed to consume light like an endless well, as if the on inside was the very fabric of space. It was around the size of a large canteloupe.

The artist's depiction was spot on. Based on legends, it was what the orb was supposed to look like if it indeed existed and anyone ever found it.

"The Eye of the Overseer!" Drake blurted out with much interest inlaying his words. They wanted him to go after this?

It was an Incan artifact. They called it the eye because it allowed the user to see what one cannot. The future and everything it holds. The orb was believed to be crafted by the Incan god Viracocha himself as a gift to his people. In Inca culture, he was the god of everything. Of the Earth, of the stars, of all living things. An artifact of such immense power wouldn't be an easy find. No wonder Trinity contacted him specifically.

"Ah. So you are familiar with it then?" Vtorov said.

Drake continued to examine the depiction and then glanced back to Vtorov. "Very. Let's just say I've spent some time studying Incan civilization."

"I would hope so. The artifact is of great importance to our cause." Vtorov replied. From the same folder, he removed a photograph sticking out from the stack of papers. It was the face of a young woman with elegant facial features and deep brown eyes. Her thick, dark brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to work fast in order to obtain it. You have competition."

"Who's the pretty face?" Drake asked, sliding the photo closer.

"Lara Croft." Vtorov informed him. "She's an archaeologist and her skills have proven troubling as we've been unable to get rid of her. She's after the Eye as well."

Skeptical, Drake said, "One person? C'mon, she can't be that much trouble."

"Don't underestimate her." Vtorov warned. "My last colleague made that mistake and payed the price. Croft's extremely dangerous. You'll need to be careful. As for finding the artifact, we believe she's onto something."

"Don't worry, Mr. Vtorov. I work fast. I'll see to it she doesn't get her hands on the Eye."

Vtorov seemed pleased to hear that. "Good! Trinity has faith in you, Mr. Drake. Do not fail us."

Drake took a liking to his assignment. He already knew a lot about the myths surrounding the artifact he was hunting - one of the perks of being a self-educated historian. According to legend, the Eye of the Overseer was hidden in the lost City of Patagonia so Drake considered starting there. He began to review what he already knew.

The City of Patagonia was a legendary mythical city of South America that could hold spectactular wealth for any adventure who found it. Believed to be located somewhere in the Andes, the lost city was founded by Incan Emperor Atahualpa after he escaped execution by the Spanish. Fearing for his culture and his people, Atahualpa brought all the riches of the Incan Empire there before the Spaniards could seize them. Gold. Silver. Diamonds... But precious metals and gemstones weren't all that the Incans treasured. The Incans supposedly possessed artifacts as old and arcane as time itself. Most were destroyed by the Spaniards during their conquest. In the eyes of the Spanish, mystical artifacts were an abomination of God's laws. However, Atahualpa managed to save one. The Eye of the Overseer. The most powerful artifact of them all: a crystal orb capable of seeing into the future and bestowing upon those who wielded it the burden of seeing fate itself.

As he attempted to discover more in the search for the artifact, one name kept recurring: a conquistador named Francisco Pizarro. Apparently, he had sought to possess the orb and the riches that Atahualpa had so vehemently denied him. In his conquest, Pizarro tried to locate the city, which is where everything would be, but whether or not he found it was shrouded in mystery. How far did he get?

He ended up returning to Spain to report his findings to Charles V, the ruler of the Spanish Empire at the time, or at least that was the plan. The ship and it's crew never did make it back. They were never to be seen again. Except for one man - a castaway. Starving, dehydrated, and his skin beaten by the scorching sun, the sailor was found tucked away in a small boat, emaciated and on the verge of death. In his hand he clutched a logbook - the records of Francisco Pizarro's ship, the Castilla, and its travels. The man died shortly after, taking whatever secrets he had with him, but the logbook remained. It was all Drake needed to find Pizarro's ship. And more importantly, the clues it could contain.

Drake grinned. It was his first lead.

As it so happens, the logbook was in the hands of an owner who was unwilling to part with it, but that mattered little to Trinity. They pulled a few strings - a gun here, a bribe there - saving Drake the usual trouble of stealing it.

The organization turned out to be more nefarious than Drake was expecting. He soon realized who he was working for and it wasn't the run-of-the-mill crime boss. They had no rules, trading money for blood and anything inbetween. It didn't matter. All that seemed to matter was their devout beliefs and the religion they held in such high regard. Trinity worked behind the scenes, operating in the shadows and manipulating the world like chess pieces on a board. Their influence knew no limits. They seemed to believe God was guiding them.

The mercenaries and agents of Trinity were no less deluded than their superiors, thinking their work to be righteous and the atrocities they commit to be a small evil in the grand scheme of things. Drake found it nothing short of scary but he kept his mouth shut for his own good. The very handsome amount of cash they were paying him was all the more reason to. Still, something didn't sit right.

Drake was a criminal, a two-bit thief some would say, but he had standards. He was professional. Although he didn't flinch at death, Drake wouldn't kill unless he absolutely had to. It was hard to find any semblence of that in Trinity. He wondered what Sully would think.

Drake knew now why they wanted the Eye. In the right hands, anyone wielding its power would be nigh untouchable. It seemed appropriate for a secret society to desire such a thing. Control. At least they had gotten him the logbook. It proved useful in locating the Castilla.


	2. Fate's Folly

**It took a while, but I poured my heart and soul into this. Enjoy.**

* * *

In uncharted waters off the coast of South America, the twin engines of a boat roared. There was naught but open ocean as far as the eye could see. Light was plentiful as the skies had cleared to reveal a full moon and black canvas flecked with white. Drake sat at the helm of the boat. Every now and then he'd consult the logbook - a black, leather article bound with a strap - to ensure he was on track. The weariness of the leather indicated it had seen better days.

As much as he would've preferred to have done this during brighter hours, Drake had to do this at night or else he had no chance of retracing Pizarro's footsteps which depended solely on the stars. Glancing at the worn pages of the logbook, he took note of which ones Pizarro had used to guide him on his voyage and adjusted his course accordingly. The blowing winds and churning seas meant he had to keep the ship constantly steady throughout the journey.

Some time later, after careful navigation and more stargazing, Drake spied what he thought was land on a shadowed horizon. A quick look through a pair of binoculars confirmed the presence of an isle. One that wasn't on the map. Shifting the throttle forward, the twin engines picked up and the speck of land began to get bigger. As he sped across the waves, the smell of salt water and the rush of wind enveloped him. It wasn't long before he arrived.

Drake patrolled the coast for a while before deciding to set ashore upon a small sheltered cove. He was eager to get going. "All right... Finally." he exhaled. "Now I just have to find the Castilla." Drake hoped finding the island had been the hard part. He had reason to believe the Castilla was shipwrecked here by an ancient storm. The last entry, dated April 9, 1526, seemed to confirm this with talk of strong winds and heavy seas.

Jumping out of the boat, Drake took his first few steps on the moonlit island bay, leaving prints in the sand as he walked. Ominous clouds hung low overhead and the chilled sea breeze rushed to meet him. Fortunately, he had brought a long-sleeve.

The isle itself was a mass of jungle-infested land with hanging palm fronds by the beaches. If not for the sound of water against the shore and occasional humming of insects, it would've been completely silent. Long ocean sightlines were replaced by those of the coast and any heedless adventurer would surely lose themselves in the jungle. Before setting off, Drake made sure to carry a compass with him just in case. He would've preferred to do this during the day when he could see better but didn't want to risk losing any time. At least the moon was bright and full.

Drake travelled along the shore until he stumbled upon an enormous archway that led into a foggy cliffside beach. The towering cliffs curved inwards like a crescent moon. The fog, thick with filtered moonlight, was obscuring something.

Could it be?

Yes! The Castilla!

"Whoa..." Drake whispered.

Through the haze, he spied the old ship wrecked atop a bluff. Overgrown and decaying, it sat precariously on the precipice's edge - what was once a free-flowing waterfall now dead and dry as the vessel it harbored. He had found it! The legendary ship of Francisco Pizarro! Now he just had to get to it. The only way up there was through a particularly tricky trail: a thin, rocky path that wasn't long but frought with danger and mishap as it hung perilously over craggy rocks. Only the bravest or most foolish would even consider trying. Maybe he was a fool for doing so but what could he do? Just leave his journey to end here? He'd seen worse anyway.

"What the hell." Drake said, cracking his knuckles as he started up the fog-laden path. Sully always said he had a knack for flirting with death. And he was good at it too.

Drake ventured up the path, navigating his way with great skill and daring. His years spent doing this very thing served him well, and it seemed like he would make it. However, the trail began to taper off, thinning down to where it became little more than a narrow ledge across a bare cliff face. Narrowing down even further, soon there wasn't enough ledge to cover his feet and they began to dangerously poke over. To make matters worse, the ground where he stood was wet from the fine mist. He felt as if he could slip at any moment. He would die if he did. He would die in an instant.

Drake steeled his nerves and kept going.

The wind hissed like a madman. Leaning back against the rock face, Drake kept as close as he could to his only salvation. The rocks behind him were cold and sticky with moisture. He felt their rough texture rub through the cloth of his shirt as he sidled along the ledge inch by inch. He felt as though the wall might thrust forward and shove him to his death. Suddenly, a few stones shifted as he made his way across, clattering down onto the rocks below.

"Shit!" Drake cried out, having barely managed to keep his footing. He quickly steadied himself and caught a glimpse of the stones disappearing into the darkened haze. They hit the ground with an ominous thwack that rung out into the air.

"Hahaha," he chuckled nervously. "It's gonna take a lot more than that."

The fog had thickened and Drake couldn't tell how close he was to the end anymore. He was pleasantly surprised, however, to find that he wasn't far at all. With a concluding pull, Drake heaved himself up and over a ledge to find himself on the same ground as the Castilla. Off to the side was a much easier path that led to the ship.

"Ah... Damn it." Drake said to himself, "I could've gone this way."

At the very least, the route he'd used looked like it was quicker - much quicker, in fact.

Drake thought he saw motion in the corner of his eye - an animal, maybe - but as he drew near he realized it was just a tree; a torn old banner was stuck on one branch, waving in the cold wind. He recognized the design - red, white, and yellow with an eagle in the center. It was a 16th Century Spanish galleon flag. The colors were a little faded but there was no mistaking it. As he examined the flag, it continued to flutter around in the breeze like a washed up fish.

"Well, I'm definitely in the right place." Drake said. He considered taking it as a souvenir on the way back, but his eyes were set on a much bigger prize.

A little less than halfway off the cliffside, the ship resided where the fog lay heaviest - a dark and decrepit mass looming over Drake and the result of hundreds of years of rotting timbers being exposed to sun and wind. Rotted planks were ripped away. Vines, vegetation, and more slithered in and out, all over the eerie deck and off the sides of the ship. It was a strange sight - the ghostly beauty of an ancient vessel that none had laid their eyes on for centuries. And he was the first to do so. The subject of many stories, its disappearance had been shrouded in countless rumor and a mystery as dense as the very fog itself. Drake could never get used to this feeling. He didn't want to.

Amazingly, the ship looked to be in pretty good condition for its age.

Not wanting to wait any longer, Drake climbed up the side of the hull and onto the deck. Cannons lined the perimeter of the boat. A few of the planks had buckled, exposing the lower levels, and vines were against everything. The ship was a long way from the busy and bustling vessel it once was. It was almost sad, really. In the unsettling silence, Drake realized the crew was still here; several of their skeletons were scattered along the deck and they were covered in clinging moss and exotic creepers.

He gasped, recoiling as he looked next to him. Propped up against a barrel, a skeleton met his gaze with a deathly gape. Living cordage, leafy and hellish, crawled all over its skull and through the hollow eye sockets. Thick, strangling vines choked the spine like an infernal snake and they had wriggled their way past cracks in the cranium. The clothing was tattered, revealing portions of a lifeless ribcage. The hollow pits where it's eyes would've been seemed to extend forever into darkness.

For a second, Drake was stunned as if his heart had stopped, but the scare was over as quick as it came. "Goddamnit... Almost gave me a heart attack." Chuckling, he said, "Well, at least it wasn't a clown." He'd take a pile of bones over clowns any day.

Pressing on, Drake arrived at the entrance to the captain's quarters and made his way inside. The interior of the ship was a dank, insect-ridden ruin where spiders and cobwebs intertwined. A miasma hung in the air - thick and redolent of the vessel's age. Furniture dominated the room: chairs, tables, chests, and more. Books of yore lined the shelves and an old harpsichord lay dormant in the corner. On either side, windows allowed a pale, silvery light to seep in from aloft.

But the bed in the center is what caught his attention.

Lying upon the time-worn sheets were the skeletal remains of a long-lost explorer in 16th century Spanish clothing. His bones were bleached and the cobwebs in his eyesockets hung heavy with dust. The man remained as he had died - examining a frayed piece of parchment paper with a magnifying glass for all eternity.

A twinkle of discovery flickered across Drake's eyes and he said, "Francisco Pizarro."

Burning with curiosity, Drake began to navigate the various clutter scattered around the room. As he walked, his feet left prints in the dust. The floorboards creaked, and he could hear the keening of the cold night wind against the hull. Besides the cobwebs, dust, and spiders, the room looked to be in good condition as opposed to the outside of the ship.

Without warning, the vessel suddenly groaned and bucked forward a few degrees. Drake stumbled headfirst, almost falling over if not for his quick reactions. He regained his balance just in time to avoid sending the ship tipping over even further.

"Whoa whoa..." Drake quavered as he steadied himself.

He stopped dead in his tracks. He'd forgotten about the vessel's precarious position. With half of it protruding over the edge, the whole ship threatened to slide off the cliffside at the slightest shift in weight. Who knew how little it would take to send the whole thing tumbling over? He had to tread carefully. Fortunately, most things in the room managed to stay where they were, and the ship's stability hadn't been disturbed too much.

When he realized the ship wasn't going to give, Drake pushed around some crates to restore balance and the floor became level again, much to his relief. He finished making his way to the bed - only this time moving slower and with more prudence. He was ready to lay his eyes on what Pizarro was looking at. Hopefully, he'd get his hands on some answers.

The collecting dust on the parchment paper indicated his arrival had long been awaited. Carefully, he plucked the unfurled scroll from the conquistador's bony fingers. The parchment had the smell of a musty old library book.

 _Huh?_

 _It was blank._

"What?" Drake murmured.

Confused, he turned it around, then upside down. He closed and opened it again to no avail.

"What?!" he repeated louder.

Where were the words? The drawings? Anything?! It was just a blank piece of paper!

Drake didn't know what to think of this. Pizarro was examining... nothing? No, it couldn't be. Considering the magnifying glass in his hand, there was obviously something on this paper that had held his attention. But what? Working it out in his head, Drake figured that whatever was written on the parchment had been written with an invisible ink of some sort. It was the only logical explanation. If that was the case, then something would reveal it; however, a quick search of the cabin revealed nothing of use.

Drake took a seat at a small wooden table. Figuring it was just the dim atmosphere, he lit an old lantern on the tabletop with his lighter. The smell of oil ran rampant as he re-examined the parchment under the lantern's radiance, hoping he'd just been careless and overlooked something, but there was still not a single mark on the paper. What was he not getting? Surely something would come to him.

Something wet landed on his head. Water? Drake looked up and sure enough the ceiling was dripping. He wasn't surprised; the Castilla was an old ship and hadn't had much in the way of repairs. Some of the droplets began to land on the frayed scroll. Not wanting it to get ruined, Drake pulled it towards him and away from the slow stream of droplets, but as he did his eye caught something. He looked closer at the scroll and found that the several scattered patches where the water had hit had revealed an unseen ink.

Water! The solution was water!

"Hahaha, yes!" Drake laughed.

But he had no time to relish the moment. The sound of a pistol's hammer cocking behind him was all the warning he got that his life was in danger. Realizing he wasn't alone, Drake's face fell like a rock. The muscles in his right arm tensed as he clenched his hand into a fist. If it were not for the gun, he would've turned around and instantly swung at the intruder. He could tell the pistol's barrel was just behind his head. He wouldn't even have time to regret it if he tried anything.

"Crap..." Drake muttered under his breath. Just what he needed - a surprise. He wondered how anyone could've gotten in here without making a sound, not to mention get the drop on him.

"Don't move." a woman warned Drake. She got closer to disarm him; only now did the floor seem to creak with noise and her boots knock against the wood. He felt her reach for the gun at his side and pull it out of the holster. There was no doubt in his mind that she could only be one person.

"You know, if you wanted to be nice you could've at least made some noise and given me a chance. " Drake said to the intruder. "Don't you know it's not polite to sneak up on people."

"Nice people don't live very long." she replied coldly in experience-riddled words.

"They finish last too." Drake jested. "But that's besides the point. So, if I have the right idea about who you are- and I think I do- then you must be Lara Croft. You're an archaeologist, right? Pretty infamous, I hear."

"Who are you?" Lara demanded. "I'm guessing another one of Trinity's agents. I don't know how the hell you got here but I know what you're here for and you're going to give it to me." she said unamused. Her tone was firm and unsmiling. From her accent, Drake placed her as being decidedly English.

"Agent?" Drake questioned bemusingly. He chuckled and replied, "Lady, I'm just the errand boy."

Pressing the gun into the back of his skull, Lara said warningly, "Enough. I don't want to kill you, but I won't hesitate. Just give me the scroll and you can walk away."

Feeling the barrel behind him, Drake suddenly got nervous. He squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, although he tried to hide it. He didn't like being defenseless. The metallic reminder poking at the back of his head wasn't doing much to calm his nerves, and it was enough to reveal how anxious he was. "Hey hey, c'mon. Can't we talk about this?" he said, apprehensive, then chuckling, "I mean, whatever happened to finders, keepers?" Lara pressed the end of the gun harder against the back of his head. "Ow!"

"I won't ask twice." she said.

 _Damn it._ Drake didn't want to just hand the scroll over but it's not like he had much of a choice. How did he get himself into these things? Carelessness? Bad luck? Maybe a combination of both, he thought. He'd come so close to finding out what was on the paper! Drake couldn't let her leave with it. He considered going for the gun but with his luck she'd probably just put him down on the spot. He had to play his cards carefully here. If she wanted the scroll so badly she likely didn't know that it was just a blank piece of paper - Drake had closed it.

"All right, all right... You win..." he conceded.

Keeping his head still, Drake slowly reached over to where the scroll was on the table and brought it back to the woman behind him. Without opening it, she took the scroll and tucked it into a brass capsule strapped over the shoulder. As she did so, Drake said, "I'm gonna be leaving this place empty-handed."

"You still have your life." Lara reminded him. She began to back away towards the door from where Drake sat. "Don't get up until I'm gone."

Hands in the air, Drake told her, "Yeah, I know how this works; I'm pretty familiar with theft. Usually I'm not the one losing their stuff though."

Drake felt the gun behind his head withdraw, yet the feeling of her sights on him still persisted and made him feel uneasy. He couldn't lose the scroll. In the time they'd been talking, he'd managed to come up with a plan, but it was a longshot if she was clever enough to see through it. He gave some thought to the fact that she'd even found this place to begin with and without the logbook on top of that. He didn't know how she managed to track the Castilla down or sneak up on him, but it was clear that she had some ability, that much he now knew. Would someone like her even fall for this trick?

It was a gamble to say the least. She'd probably gun him down if she called his bluff. Still, it was the best plan he had. And the only one.

Drake just had to hope as Lara was nearly at the door and about to leave with his prize. He listened to her boots clack against the wooden flooring then cast aside any doubts. It was now or never.

With great cunning, reminiscent of Drake's silver-tongued mentor Sullivan Victor, the fortune hunter spoke up and said, "So, you have the scroll but ah... _tell me something_. How are you going to _read it?_ "

"I can read 16th century Spanish." Lara informed him from the door, shrugging off his question.

Although she couldn't see with the way he was facing, Drake's lips had curved into a slight smile - the smile of a long-time thief, sly and mendacious. Then, in a way that suggested he knew something she didn't, Drake said, _"That's not what I mean."_

Lara stopped completely.

Drake felt some minor relief at the sound of her boots coming to an end. At the very least, he'd delayed her from escaping. Fortunately for him, he'd picked up a few tricks from Sully throughout the years. The man was the best con artist he'd ever seen. Drake wasn't as good as him, but he could be very convincing as well. He had to be in order to survive on the streets as a runaway.

Lara wasn't sure what he was talking about so she considered his words carefully."What are you getting at?"

"Well, why don't you open the scroll and find out?" Drake dared cheekily.

The rustling of paper and the sound of unfurling parchment could be heard as Lara opened the scroll. Drake imagined her face full of surprise in the tantalizing silence that followed. For a moment, she was distracted, probably thinking the same thing he had been. This moment was long enough for Drake to discreetly snatch a small, square vial from a coffer on the table he was sitting at. Set inside were more of the square-shaped vials but they weren't easily visible. The vials were plugged by a stopper and held a clear colorless liquid similar-looking to water. The liquid was useless to either of them, and Drake didn't even know what it was, but she didn't know that. That's all that mattered.

Bewildered and in disbelief, Lara said, "Blank? No..."

"It's invisible ink." Drake said, getting her attention. "You want to read it don't you? Well... you're gonna need my little friend right here to do it." Between two of his fingers, Drake revealed the vial he'd snatched and waggled it. "You weren't planning on leaving without this were you? Y'see, this vial contains the only substance that can reveal the ink on that page..." Drake swiftly got out of his chair, stood up, and turned around to face Lara. Getting his first look at her, he continued, saying, "...and you're not reading anything without it."

Lara wielded her pistol threateningly. "Stop!" she warned.

"Ah-ah," Drake said, holding up a finger and displaying the vial. He had removed the stopper and was tilting the bottle so that the liquid was nearly flowing over the edge. "Shoot me and you can kiss goodbye to finding out what's on that scroll. I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound very good for either of us."

Unwilling to back to down, Lara kept pointing the gun at him."You're going to give me that bottle."

"And if I don't, you'll shoot me. Yeah, I get it. I just explained why that's a bad idea." Drake said.

Lara glared at him. She was beginning to tire of this man, now a thorn in her side. After a moment of silence and an exchanging of gazes, she asked him, "Why do you want the scroll?"

"I need some bread on the table." Drake answered laconically, like it was no big deal.

"You're doing it for money?!" Lara replied in disbelief, "How can you work for them?"

Drake chuckled and then said, "Well, you probably think I'm the scum of the Earth right now, but I'm a treasure hunter, and that's how I make a living. If it's any consolation, my partnership with Trinity is only temporary. I'm in need of some cash and they're providing it."

"People like you will do anything for money." she sneered.

"I have my standards." was all Drake said in reply.

It seemed like things would remain this way for a while, the two of them locked in a standoff, but then Lara spied the coffer on the table and the several other vials it contained. She deduced that's where he'd taken it from. Suddenly, the words of the man in front of her held little weight.

Lara looked down on him with disdain and started walking towards the coffer with her gun still pointed at him. "If you won't give that one to me, then I'll just take the rest."

When he saw where she was headed, Drake's blood sunk to his feet. He was going to lose the scroll! _No! Damn it,_ he thought. She'd fallen for his trickery, yet he was going to fail all the same. It was probably the most bittersweet feeling he'd ever felt. Worse still, he was all out of cards to play, and with his only weapon gone, he could do nothing as she walked over to the coffer and deemed his only bargaining chip worthless when she could have the whole box.

But then the ship groaned.

At the last second, Drake realized what was going to happen. He reached out with his hand to warn her but it was too late. "No, no wait-"

She picked up the chest.

Immediately, the ship began to careen to one side as the equilibrium was disturbed. They were both thrown off balance and stumbled in the same direction as things shifted and scraped around the room, anything that wasn't secure enough to stay in one place. Books fell off the shelf. Coins on the table splattered against the flooring. Staggering in the same direction, the ship lurched violently at their combined weight and tilted even further. Drake was the first to reach the far wall on the other side of the room, sliding rearwards into it with his back and ending up in a sitting position. He saw Lara tumbling towards where he was, the ship creaking horrendously all the way, and she thudded into the wall beside him. Sundries collected at their feet. The ship somehow managed to remain grounded even with everything that was moving.

The creaking came to an end. Having seen it coming, Drake was quick to seize the opportunity. Instantly, he grabbed Lara's wrist, snatching the gun from her hands and throwing it somewhere it could not be grabbed. The gun became lost in the mess. They grappled for a moment, wrestling for control, but Drake had the initiative and mass was on his side. He pinned her down by the wrists. Lara struggled under his vice-like grip for a moment but then stopped when she realized it wasn't going to work. He kept a steady pressure to ensure there were no more surprises.

 _Well, now what?_ Drake wondered.

Now that they were face-to-face, Drake was dimly aware of how attractive the woman in front of him was - their faces were nearly touching - but this was no time to let himself become distracted. What should his next move be? Like many things done in the heat of the moment, Drake hadn't exactly thought this course of action through and now it was costing him. He couldn't just let her go; she'd probably attack him and he'd risk her running off with the scroll. But then again, they couldn't just stay there forever, not that he minded if they did anyway.

"You just _had_ to grab the chest, didn't you?" Drake said.

"Let go of me!" Lara demanded, looking right into his eyes.

"I don't think so. You're the one who walked in here with a gun pointed at my head and now you want me to let you go? That doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"I figured you weren't too keen on sharing." Lara seethed.

"Sharing?" Drake chuckled, "Well, if you wanted to share all you had to do was ask." That reminded him. Where was the scroll anyway? A few searching glances revealed it wasn't on her person nor in the immediate area. He looked towards Lara expecting an answer. "Where's the scroll?"

"How should I know?" she snapped.

"Oh, come on, don't be that way..." Drake said.

Just then, a strange smell confronted the two of them. Something was wrong. It was the smell of smoke - something old, rotting, and wooden was burning. If Sully was around, Drake would have simply brushed it off as one of the man's cheap cigars, but Sully wasn't here, and this smell was most certainly not what Drake was hoping it was.

 _Oh no..._

Planks.

Drake remembered his lantern - it must've slid from the table. He looked over his shoulder to see a growing fire on the floor where it had shattered during the chaos. Smoke had already begun to build in the room. The flames were spreading. Rapidly. As if that wasn't bad enough, the scroll itself, his very prize, was seated right next to the lips of the hungry flames that were about to devour it. It was going to catch fire!

"The scroll. No!" Lara said.

"Ah, you gotta be kidding me!" Without thinking, Drake released his grip on Lara and bolted for the artifact. It was going to burn! Unfortunately for Drake, he had forgotten about the woman behind him. Lara quickly punished his mistake by grabbing his leg, causing him to trip hard into the flooring and slowing him down for a second. When he looked back up, Lara was already there with the scroll in her hand and heading for the exit. She quickly tucked the delicate parchment into her capsule to protect it.

Drake had no choice. As much as he didn't want to risk the ship sliding off the cliffside, it was the only way of keeping her from escaping. He hoped the ship was more stable than it had looked from the outside. With swiftness, he brought himself to his feet and sprinted for the other side of the room where she was.

"Oh, no you don't!" he shouted.

Again, the ship lurched to one side and both of them staggered into the wall with a bone-rattling thud. Drake tried to restrain her, but Lara didn't make the same mistake twice. She read his next move like an open book and easily evaded his grasp and any attempts to snatch the scroll. In order to rebalance the ship, Lara made her way to the center of the room with Drake in tow. The floor became level again.

"You're not getting away that easily." Drake assured her. "I need that scroll."

"So do I..." Lara replied. Resourceful, she seized a sword that was lying next to her and readied herself for combat. "I can't let you give it to them."

"C'mon. Don't do this. Just back down and give me the scroll." Drake pleaded, not wanting to fight.

But his words seemed to have no effect as Lara glared at him and stood her ground, "You've given me no choice."

He had hoped this would end without violence, but deep down Drake knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking. When it was clear she wasn't about to give up, Drake finally accepted his only option. He needed a blade of his own. Weaponless and without a means to defend himself, he quickly scanned the surrounding area and thankfully spotted something suitable amongst the cluttered floor.

Rising to the challenge, Drake said, "So that's how it's going to be, huh? All right. I don't like fighting a lady, but if you wanna play rough..." he paused, picking up a heavy Spanish saber at his feet, "then let's play rough!"

"Let's see what you've got!" Lara responded.

The fighting began at once. Lara attacked first. The clash of metal against metal rung out as they exchanged blows, Drake parrying her strikes and smashing down on her sword causing sparks of blue energy to shoot out. Lara posessed a light step and quick foot. She was lighter, and thus the nimbler of the two. With speed and grace he would dare not match, she dodged and weaved, jumping back as Drake tried to cut at her. His strikes were stronger, punishing and heavy, but they were slow and relatively easy to avoid. Instead of stopping them directly, she warded them off with glancing blows.

Drake gasped as her blade nearly clipped him. He really wished he had taken those fencing classes right now.

Lara's swings were surgical and precise compared to Drake's flailing blows. She fought aggressively, putting immense pressure on Drake with her flurry of attacks. She chained together consecutive strikes, hoping to force a mistake, but Drake managed to keep up, parrying every blow by the skin of his teeth. Barely holding his own and backed into a wall, he kicked her away to create space.

As Lara staggered back from the force of the kick, Drake took the offensive. Confined and with little room to maneuver, surprise flickered across her eyes at the sudden change in her opponent's demeanor, and Drake saw his chance. Winding up as much as he could, he swung mightily with his sword and Lara was forced to meet it with her own. Clashing metal shattered the air and Lara staggered rearward again, finding herself backed against a wall. With no time to think, she merely reacted as Drake brought his blade down on hers and held her there against the wall, locking them in a duel. They were once again face to face, so close that Drake could see the sweat on her brow - it was getting hotter. The fire was spreading, fueled by rotting planks and decaying wood.

Drake was surprised to find himself out of breath. "You're better than I thought!"

"I won't let you walk away!" Lara shot back. She was winded as well.

Her sword pressing against his, Lara shoved him off with a sudden burst of strength. Drake tried to riposte, but Lara saw it coming and easily evaded the strike. She quickly moved in and swept Drake off his feet, causing him to land hard on his back. He groaned, and Lara propelled her blade downwards, but Drake blocked the strike by holding his sword horizontally. He strained as she pressed down with strength that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

The room was starting to become a burning hell. Around them, the fire had already spread to other parts of the ship and the room was currently in flames and coming down. Parts of the ceiling had started to collapse. Smoke polluted the air. They'd already begun to cough as sweltering heat circulated throughout and made their eyes water. They'd been so occupied fighting that neither had noticed until now. Their battle continued in a growing sea of red, yellow, and orange.

At that moment, something seemed to click with Drake. He recalled seeing cannons, along with numerous barrels, when he'd climbed up the side of the hull. All ships with cannons had these barrels. What else could they contain besides...

Gunpowder.

And the ship was full of them.

They had been fighting on a ticking time bomb! He didn't know how long before the fire would reach the barrels but they would surely die if they stayed here much longer. He needed to get out of here! And fast!

Drake stopped attacking. "Hey-hey, c'mon, this whole place is coming down! We need to get out of here!" he implored. "The ship's carrying gunpowder!"

In seemingly mutual understanding, Lara replied, "Then let's go!"

The two of them dropped their weapons and Lara took off through the exit with Drake in hot pursuit. Right now, getting off the ship and going after her were one in the same. Outside, the deck was in flames, faring no better than where they previously were. With skill that rivaled his own, Lara quickly descended the side of the ship and hit the ground running. Drake followed close behind.

They'd barely gained separation from the ship when it detonated in a gigantic inferno of red hot fire. A deafening explosion boomed out. They were blown off their feet. Shrapnel from the blast whizzed by, piercing the bark of nearby trees as they landed right next to each other in disarray. All around them, debris - smoldering wood from the explosion - hit the ground like a hailstorm straight from hell. The ship, or what remained of it, was now a blazing wreck and had smoke piling high into the night. Embers permeated the air. If Drake had tried hard enough, he would've thought it was some strange kind of snow.

Drake lied there on the ground, grimed with dirt. The blast had disoriented him. He felt uncomfortably dizzy, like his head was spinning, and it took him a second to get his bearings - all the while his ears were ringing. He clasped them as if that would make the buzzing stop. They seemed like they would buzz on forever. Fortunately for him, the ringing died down after a while and so did some of the dizziness. He was used to explosions - grenades and RPGs, at least.

"Oh... Okay, something hurts. Something definitely hurts." Drake groaned, trying to sit up. He rubbed his face with his hand. His ribs felt like they had taken a beating. Brushing himself off, it was then he realized that Lara was lying next to him, sprawled out on the jungle floor. The burning blaze cast a shimmering glow on her form. She'd been knocked unconscious.

Drake drifted over to her. The brass capsule containing the scroll was strapped over her shoulder like a bandolier. Wearily, he worked the strap and took it off her person.

At last.

Drake coughed and let out a chuckle. "Finally." He finally had the scroll, although he had a bruised rib and probably tinnitus to show for it. Well... where would be the fun in having it handed to him? He gripped the brass, triumphant. The feeling of the scroll in his hand did wonders to the ease the pain. He couldn't wait to have a beer - all that fighting had conjured up an almighty thirst.

Drake turned to leave, the sounds of the burning wreck behind him, but then he heard a voice. He stopped right where he stood.

"You don't know what you're doing." Lara warned him. She got up and clutched her bruised arm. They were both visibly exhausted, and any more fighting would surely be a brutal toss up. "Listen to me... you can't give it to them!" she continued.

Drake looked over his shoulder. "Sorry... but I didn't come all the way out here for nothing."

"Please... don't do this." beseeched Lara. "I've seen how Trinity operates. If you give them the scroll, it'll lead them right to the City of Patagonia. What do you think they're going to do when they get their hands on the Eye?"

"That's not my concern." he replied curtly.

"Bastard!" Lara shouted, "Is a paycheck all that matters to you?!"

Drake wasn't sure how to feel. He looked away from her and thought for a moment. Normally, he would just say 'business is business' and leave it at that, but Trinity was a powerful organization in every respect. He could see that what would happen if they got their hands on the artifact. _Damn it,_ Drake said inwardly to himself. He didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to deliver the scroll - they were paying him a lot of money, more than enough to last him a while - but with the other couldn't agree less with the idea. However, the more he thought about it the more he grew disgusted with the idea of being a slave to coin.

No.

That wasn't who he was.

Drake sighed and turned around. "You're wrong." he spoke with conviction. He walked up to Lara and said, "It isn't all that matters to me."

Lara blinked. She couldn't believe what was happening.

"All right." he continued, "What do you propose then now that I'm jobless and out of work. I hope you don't expect me to walk away this late in the game."

"You're not going to give it to them?" Lara asked in a state of surrealness.

"No, I won't give it to them." Drake said reluctantly, then muttering under his breath, "Goddamnit..."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. It just seems like I'm always playing the goddamn hero." Drake told her with an inkling of disappointment.

"Isn't that a good thing?" she asked him.

Drake chuckled and replied, "Well... not for my wallet, anyway."

"Heh... I'm glad you changed your mind." Lara said, relieved.

"Yeah... I'm still going after the city though." Drake handed her the scroll. "How about we just share? I'd prefer it we worked together on this instead of being at each other's throats."

"What's your name?" Lara asked.

Smiling, he said, "Nathan. Nathan Drake."


End file.
